


What Blooms in Adversity

by Skowronek



Series: Of Magic Things [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Alternate Universe - Magic, Angst, Character's Name Spelled as Viktor, Domesticity, Duelling, Fluff, Hogwarts, M/M, Magic, Mahoutokoro (Harry Potter), Mahoutokoro!Yuuri, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Romance, Sexual Content, Wizarding World
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-04
Updated: 2018-02-22
Packaged: 2019-03-13 18:49:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13576755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skowronek/pseuds/Skowronek
Summary: One year after dropping out of duelling competitions and falling in love with the reigning champion, Yuuri Katsuki moves to Saint Petersburg, where he shares his life with his boyfriend, their two dogs, and a growing pile of magical books which will hopefully advance his research.Although Yuuri’s life is magical in more ways than one, soon the spell is broken. Viktor and Yuuri will have to learn how to navigate through the magical world together, side by side, as a threat looms over their heads and the magical world is full of inexplicable things.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [eternalsunshine13](https://archiveofourown.org/users/eternalsunshine13/gifts), [voxofthevoid](https://archiveofourown.org/users/voxofthevoid/gifts).



 

Yuuri kept running.

His breath, loud, turned into mist in the cold morning air. In Hasetsu, it would be unthinkable in early October, but St. Petersburg had surprised him with its harsh climate and sharp cries of seagulls, somehow different from the sleepy coast of Japan.

“Sometimes we get a spell of warm weather in late September,” Viktor had told him a bit wistfully. “A week of sunshine before everything turns dead and dried.”

Yuuri had been looking forward to it, but it didn’t come. Instead, one morning he woke up to early frost on the green grass and a grey, unforgiving mist seeping into the corners of the old street they lived in. He’d spent that day huddled on the sofa for warmth, two dogs by his side, Victor’s beige blanket wrapped around his arms, until Viktor came home from his duelling practice and tickled him back to warmth.

He got used to it now, enough to go jogging every morning, impossibly early. He needed the rhythmic sound of his footsteps to guide him through the cold, to lead him through this impossible, historic city that somehow refused all his attempts to tame it. It still didn’t quite feel like home.

St. Petersburg was a living, breathing organism, too complicated for Yuuri to comprehend, a moving, organic force in which Yuuri was constantly lost without Viktor to guide him. But these morning runs were bringing him closer: each day, his baby steps grew surer, steadier, stronger.

It felt right, somehow, to face the impossible on his own, just like he had used to face opponents on the duelling platform. Viktor had offered to run with him, but Yuuri needed this time alone to structure his thoughts around his understanding of the city. He’d come back to their flat just as Viktor finished preparing their breakfast, always sunny, always early, always with fresh flowers on the table because Viktor’s apartment might be minimalistic and steely cold, but Viktor himself was not and he always made sure to brighten the greyness of the city for Yuuri.

It wasn’t the case now. Yuuri climbed up the stairs until he reached the third floor of the historical four-storey building they lived in, and he opened the doors only to end up on the floor, a hugful of dogs in his arms. Lumos was always the more enthusiastic of the two, Makkachin’s age showing in her slower movements, but the older dog had fallen in love with Yuuri as quickly as Yuuri did with her. Whenever he had to Portkey away for his appointments with Ayano or for research trips, he missed the poodles equally as much as he did Viktor.

Victor had charmed the flowers on the table – so that Yuuri wouldn’t feel too alone, he’d said – and now that Yuuri had taken off his shoes, he padded barefooted to the kitchen, feeling the soft petals between his fingertips. It was curious, he thought not for the first time, how you could use spells to delay effects of a natural phenomenon, but could not use spells with delayed effects.

Victor was going to come back from his competition in the afternoon. Yuuri smiled to himself. He had slowly got used to the unfamiliar flat, but it still felt a bit lonely.

He prepared breakfast for himself and ate quickly, mechanically, before turning on the Wizarding Wireless. It took a bit fumbling before Yuuri managed to find a station that would not be in Russian. As soon as the more familiar sounds of English rang in the living room, he relocated to the sofa. One quick flick of his cherry wand charmed Yuuri’s quill so that it wrote as he dictated his notes to it. Soon Yuuri immersed himself in the lull of old Wizarding music, the snoring of their dogs, and the elaborate treatise on magical understandings of time that he’s been slowly ploughing through.

It hadn’t been easy to abandon duelling for the sleepy lull of Hasetsu, and it wasn’t any more easier now, in St. Petersburg, losing himself in research that kept him still in one place, without the constant attack of spells and explosions of sparks, without the thrill of danger and competition in his veins.

It was a different kind of magic, this slow, meticulous progress that would never be done unless Yuuri met his fair share of dead ends and sieved through countless useless information.

“You were lucky with that previous spell,” Harry had told him back in Hasetsu, the day Yuuri decided to get a Mastery in Charms instead of returning to duelling. “Lucky, or intuitive, a lot like I used to be. But it’s not everything, Yuuri – sometimes you’ll need to sit down and figure things out the dull way.”

It wasn’t as dull as Harry made it sound. Research required a different kind of energy, but it called to Yuuri in ways he’d never expected. There was something calming about changing his ever-rushed routine into this tiring lull of turned pages and failed spells; and if he wanted to go back to duelling, Viktor was always just a wand away, and it was never, ever dull.

The radio station now offered him a pleasant, old-fashioned jazzy buzz as he skimmed the pages of an old book he’d borrowed from Hogwarts just a couple of days before. Portkeying back and forth between magical institutions had now become Yuuri’s second nature; timezones had ceased to mean anything to him, and he became a red-eyed night owl, perusing old volumes in the pale light of his cherry wand.

He finally closed the books, putting the notes away. The day he’d moved in, it turned out that Viktor had stacked up on Muggle stationery, as excited about this research as Yuuri himself if not more. Yuuri now grabbed a blue bullet pen and fiddled with it while waiting for the broadcast to start.

It was a pity that he couldn’t watch Viktor’s competition live. He’d initially planned to accompany him to India, but Harry had been adamant that Yuuri’s research needed to progress and he was due a paper this week; and as much as Yuuri tried to insist that Agra’s extensive libraries would be of use, Harry just sent him a knowing smirk and shook his head.

“It’s so ironic that Harry makes you study,” Teddy told him then. “Aunt Hermione says he slacked off at school if he could get away with it.”

Yuuri could do nothing but grin and bear it, and it led him here, to the sofa, in front of Viktor’s radio, gripping a pen out of sheer nerves and leaning forward as if it was going to make him hear the broadcast better.

“... Russia’s Viktor Nikiforov, at the age of 25 four-time national duelling champion, is widely expected to medal today, especially after his amazing performance in San Diego just two weeks ago. He’s got a reputation for delivering flawless, artful shows on the platform, but this season is something else.”

“He’s put some extra effort into his step sequences,” another commentator agreed. “The thing about Nikiforov is that he’s always been a very artistic duellist, very refined. Some rely on pure strength only, but not him – he always aims to make everything as elegant as possible. These new step sequences this season seem to emphasise it.”

Yuuri smiled to himself; they had spent ages refining those sequences until Viktor was comfortable performing them on the platform. It felt like a dance, intimate and full of magic, and Yuuri almost missed the feeling of performing, of facing Viktor under the eye of the crowd.

He didn’t regret it, though – not when the focus on his studies brought back the old-new joy of discovery and experimentation, not when later, once he’d completed his research, he could apply it in his life and make it so much richer in charms, pulsating with magic. Not when sitting in the audience and watching Viktor on the platform turned out to be as exciting as duelling had been, but without the fear of not being good enough; not when he could still duel against Viktor, just the two of them, without the expectations of the world.

“And here we have Rozalija Alseikaitė in her first Cup of India. The 20-year-old Lithuanian is a recent Durmstrang graduate, an unpopular choice in her home country, and is known for her fierce attacks and aptitude for offensive spells.”

“She hasn’t lost a single duel this season, although admittedly she only took part in smaller competitions. This event is her first big performance and it seems like she won’t let her nerves to get better of herself. And here we go!”

“Nikiforov’s not fazed by these Stupefies, look at that spin of his, he’s really polished them since the previous season.”

“Oh, that must have hurt.”, the other commentator chimed in.  “Alseikaitė’s not really discouraged though, that was a beautiful _Impedimenta,_ and oh, look, now she’s trying to overpower her shields so that Nikiforov won’t cut through them again.”

“Nikiforov’s obviously the stronger of the two, and he’s had more experience. Look at that Russian spell!”

“He’s recently begun to use more Slavic spells in general. I wonder what’s the reason for this change--- oh, and now Alseikaitė’s made a mistake, I wonder if she can recover from _that._ ”

“Nikiforov’s certainly not playing around with this Transfiguration... but snakes, really? That’s almost archetypical.”

“He’s lucky she’s not a Parlemouth, isn’t he?”, chuckled the other commentator.  “But look at this step sentence – and oh, that was a really good triple Stupefy, Alseikaitė’s Durmstrang background really shows in the way she’s holding her wand, look—“

“And now Nikiforov’s Ice Spell is cutting through her Protego, very elegant, and yes – it seems we have a winner.”

“She put up a fight, though. Nikiforov’s the crowd’s favourite, and he’s obviously more technically skilled, but give it a season or two and Rozalija Alseikaitė might surprise you.”

Yuuri turned off the radio with his wand, grinning to himself. Back when he first listened to the commentary on the radio, he hadn’t expected to become so engrossed in it. It was exciting, though – he could let his imagination run wild: Viktor in his long robes, his movements so elegant, just like they’d practised, a look of concentration on his face that Yuuri had once taken for aloofness.

But it couldn’t – it wouldn’t – replace the real thing. Yuuri shot a disdainful look at his books. All the joy he felt dimmed when he thought that once again, he wasn’t able to celebrate with Viktor, to stand beside him. It would take a few hours for Viktor to come home, even though he’d promised to catch the first Portkey available to him. Yuuri mentally prepared for a day full of a jet-lagged, grumpy Viktor. He wouldn’t get any work done tomorrow.

“Come on,” he now said to the dogs. “Let’s get you out of here. Which park is it today?”

He let the poodles lead the way, following them silently, his pace brisk. Yuuri had longed to walk Makkachin and Lumos in Yusupov Palace, and even though Viktor had offered to put a mild Confundus on the Muggle authorities to bypass the _no dogs allowed_ rule, Yuuri felt it was wrong to cheat in the country which welcomed him so warmly. He cast a glance at the park while they walked past it, but soon Makkachin shot forward and decided that streets were more interesting to explore. Yuuri had no complaints.

They stopped by at Viktor’s favourite bakery, where Yuuri fumbled with Russian Muggle money and awkwardly juggled his rubles and kopeykas until he found the right amount to pay; once he stepped out, he cast a discreet spell the keep the pastries warm. Lumos waggled his tail at him, hopeful to get a treat, but Yuuri just shook his head.

The spell made him think back to his research and to his half-composed letter to Harry which he hadn’t worked on since before Viktor’s departure. Harry had been so enthusiastic about Yuuri’s topic, but less so about the methodology; Yuuri thought that perhaps it was just in Harry’s nature to dare and improvise – but it wasn’t in Yuuri’s and he had his approach to show for it.

They returned to the flat later that Yuuri had expected, just the set began to set. Yuuri felt the slight shiver of Viktor’s protective wards sweep over him as he entered the building, and then again at the entrance by their front door. Makkachin let out a bark, suddenly excited, and it was then that Yuuri realized Viktor had already returned home.

“Hi,” he soon breathed into Viktor’s collarbone. Viktor smelt like the wind and something foreign and faraway, the same scent that always set on a person who’d travelled by a Portkey. “You’re early. Congratulations on your win, honey.”

“Missed you,” Viktor just mumbled into Yuuri’s hair. Yuuri felt him shifting enough to let the dogs share their hug, too.

“Uhm, let me,” he said. “You’re gonna squash the pastries.”

He took out the package and levitated it to the kitchen. Viktor rolled his eyes, untangling himself, and followed, but not before giving Lumos a quick scratch behind the ears.

“I’m starving,” Viktor yawned. “I didn’t stay for the banquet, there were so many journalists in there. I just wanted to come back home.” He reached out one hand towards Yuuri, who grabbed it and enveloped Viktor in a hug from behind, nuzzling into the crook of his neck. Viktor wordlessly split the pastry in half and waved one at Yuuri.

“No, thank you,” Yuuri said. “It’s for you. It’s your favourite.”

Viktor tilted his head and kissed Yuuri’s temple.

“You’re my favourite,” he said. He took a bit of the pastry and made a show out of pretending to think, putting his finger to his lower lip, seemingly lost in thoughts. “Well, my second favourite, obviously, because Makkachin is always going to be my favouritest...”

Yuuri snorted, tackling him until Viktor needed to catch the kitchen table for balance. Yuuri tickled him, the Muggle way, no spells needed, and he broke into laughter when Viktor tried to fight back and laugh and chew the pastry at the same time.

“Yuuri!” Viktor finally called between bursts of laughter. “You win, okay? You win!”

Yuuri pressed a kiss to his neck.

“I wasn’t aware that was a competition,” he teased.

Viktor slipped his hand under Yuuri’s shirt, impatient, his previous tiredness lost in the darkness of his pupils.

“Bed?” he asked.

Yuuri smiled into the crease of Viktor’s skin.

“Obviously,” he said.

 

***

 

He woke up to a dim light of Viktor’s spell. It was still dark outside, the greyish time before the day began in earnest. Yuuri turned to his right just to catch Viktor’s smile as the man glanced down at him. He was sitting cross-legged on their bed, scribbling away in a Muggle notebook.

“Did I wake you?” he asked.

“No,” Yuuri said. “I don’t think so. What are you doing?”

“Writing a letter,” replied Viktor. “To Alejandra Rodriguez. It was so hectic in Agra, we didn’t even exchange more than a few words. I’ve been meaning to catch up – she sent me a letter, remember?”

“Yeah,” Yuuri said. Viktor did correspond regularly with a lot of other competitors, even though the only one who seemed to be close to him was Christophe Giacometti. “I thought you’d replied by now.”

Viktor rolled his eyes at him, fondly.

“We got distracted, remember?”

“You dork,” Yuuri yawned. He did remember – Viktor had never finished that letter, and it was Yuuri who banished it from the table and onto their unused desk when it turned out that the table might be used for different purposes than writing. “Can’t sleep?”

“Yeah,” Victor admitted. He put the bullet pen away and turned to Yuuri. “It’s weird, though. I’m still tired.”

Yuuri snuggled closer.

“I have my own letters to write, too,” he said sleepily. “Harry wants an update. And grandma as well – she sends her regards to you, by the way.”

Viktor let his fingers run through Yuuri hair and Yuuri closed his eyes, smiling.

“Thanks,” Viktor said. “Are you going to ask her about your research?”

“Mhm,” Yuuri hummed. “If the books I’m reading now won’t help me at all. I have no guarantee she can help me, either.”

For a moment, all Yuuri could hear was Victor’s scribbling.

“You told me that she’s wise, though.” Victor finally offered. “She might help you in a way no book could.”

Yuuri sighed, finally opening his eyes and shifting so that he sat supported by the headboard next to Viktor.

“I know,” he said. “But it’s not as good as discovering it on your own, right?”

 

***

 

“Do you have any plans for today?” Viktor asked a few hours later, once they’d eaten and walked the dogs. The morning was chilly; even in the warmth of their flat, Yuuri felt glad for the wool of his jumper and for Viktor’s arms as they snuggled on the sofa. Two years before, he would have never imagined this; a year ago, perhaps, he would have hoped.

“Research?” Yuuri asked in turn. “It’s all I do nowadays.”

Viktor rubbed his arm. The book he’d been reading – something written in the Cyrillic that Yuuri had no hopes to understand – was put away on the coffee table, abandoned.

“You could take a break,” he suggested. “Come to my practice with me.”

“I thought you were gonna take a day off,” Yuuri said.

Viktor tilted his head, drumming his fingers on Yuuri’s arm.

“Just for an hour or two,” he said. “You could duel against me. I’d like to practice my Patronus today – I think I might be getting the hang of it.”

Yuuri let his book close and intertwined his fingers with Viktor’s.

“Sure,” he said. “But on one condition. We’re going out tonight, too. I think – a dinner? To celebrate your victory?”

It wasn’t the first time they would do that – go to a restaurant or on a special date after Viktor came back home, a new medal in his suitcase that somehow always, inevitably, ended up around Makkachin’s or Lumos’s neck, photographed and added to Victor’s album full of pictures of dogs. But as Yuuri tilted his head back to meet Viktor’s eyes, he still saw in them the same delight that sparkled when Yuuri had suggested it for the first time.

Viktor, Yuuri thought, must have been horribly lonely.

He got up, planted a kiss on Viktor’s nose, and muttered a quiet _Accio_ to get their coats.

“Come on now,” he said. “No time like the present.”

 

***

 

Viktor’s training area couldn’t be different from Yuuri’s tiny room in Yuuko’s magical shop. Even after a few weeks of getting acquainted with it, Yuuri was blown away by the vast space full of glimmering protective runes written in the Cyrillic. Yuuri had first seen it in a memory – his first time stepping into this place had been surreal, as if he found himself again in the Pensieve.

He was more used to it now, to the flashing spells which used to be a mystery but now became more familiar; to the sparkling runes that Viktor had once helped him translate, guiding his hand over them so that Yuuri, too, would feel their old magic. Even at Mahoutokoro, there was nothing like this – what they had was practical and elegant but without the overwhelming grandeur that the Russian magical community seemed to favour.

“Hello!”, he then heard, and there she was, Mila Babicheva in very casual Muggle wear, stretching near one of the platforms. Viktor immediately dropped down in front of her and after a flippant greeting began his own exercises, smiling but silent; Mila kept chattering to Yuuri as he deposited his bags near the benches.

“Are you gonna practice, too?”, she asked, leaning into a forward bend so that Yuuri couldn’t see her face. “I’d love to spar with you.”

Yuuri hesitated. He took time with his own stretches, no more used to the athletic rigour, not rushing to get his old flexibility back. He was well aware that he was nowhere near as pliant as in the past, and not as lean either; yet neither Mila nor Viktor commented on that, and Yuuri soon discovered there was something calming in the way his body responded to the old exercises when he didn’t need to keep his training regimen.

“Hey!” Viktor called to Mila just when Yuuri was going to reply to her.

“Maybe later, I’m sorry – I promised Viktor first.”

Mila shifted into a plank, giving him an easy wink.

“Okay, then,” she just said. “I’m not gonna steal either of you from the other, you lovebirds.”

Soon she was off to shoot at magical dummies, her silent spells all bright flashes and swishes in the air. Yuuri liked her easy charm; she now trained primarily under Lilia Baranovskaya, a duellist who decades ago was the only one to beat Viktor’s own coach, Yakov Feltsman. Viktor often made use of her expertise now that he stayed mostly in St. Petersburg with Yuuri; Feltsman still taught at Koldovstoretz, Viktor’s alma mater, where he also coached Yurio. Viktor would only Portkey there twice a week, often with Yuuri in tow. Yuuri loved the school’s library.

“You’re getting distracted,” Viktor told him. “I’m all finished warming up – join me when you’re done?”

“Yeah,” Yuuri said. “A few more minutes.”

Viktor hopped onto the platform and began going through his step sequences without firing any spells. After a long moment, Yuuri finally felt ready; he walked up to the same platform and jumped on it, meeting Viktor’s eyes.

“So,” he said. “Duel first, Patronus later? Or the other way round?”

“Give him hell, Yuuri,” Mila shouted. He waved at her, distracted. On the other end of the platform, Viktor pretended to ponder this.

“You know what,” he said, deceptively calm, “why not both?”

He fired his spell as swift as a thought. Yuuri barely dodged; he had no time to draw his wand. Two feints later he finally got back on his feet and attacked back with a series of Stunners.

Viktor laughed; the spells bounced back from his Shield, aiming at Yuuri, who dropped down and waved his wand wide, smearing the platform with ice. He was thankful for his careful stretching now; Viktor barely found his balance but his spell was aimed true, straight at Yuuri’s knees.

Yuuri jumped up, sent a silent _Diffindo_ Viktor’s way only to see it dissolve before his feet even touched the ground. Viktor was good – Yuuri had always known that, but he was even better now, in the middle of the duelling season and with Yuuri so out of practice.

He resolved to silent spells only, a touch of Japanese magic here and there, a few Stunners just too powerful to comfort. He even hit Viktor with an Impedimenta once, but it did nothing – Viktor had fired a Stunner just a moment before, and Yuuri found himself leaping away, and Viktor had fought the spell off before Yuuri attacked again.

And then Viktor fired another curse, and Yuuri thought – you wanted a Patronus, so here, there you have it, and he sent it towards him, silver and silent, the sabre glimmering above them like the moon. It run towards Viktor and then stopped, as if suddenly alert, wary, and Yuuri was going to shield it with a new spell, confused, when he realized what Viktor was murmuring.

“ _Expecto Patronum!”_

It was a dog. Yuuri knew it would be. What he didn’t expect was the corporeal shape, without blurred mists and unfinished paws, a Patronus as perfect as it could get.

It seemed to stun Viktor, too. Yuuri realized: that was his opening, now.

“ _Expelliarmus!”_ he screamed.

He aimed his wand at Viktor. He stood defenceless now, eyes drawn away from the two Patroni and towards Yuuri, pupils dark and wide. Yuuri walked closer and closer until his wand could touch the place on Viktor’s chest where he knew his heart was beating.

“You know the spell,” he told him, quietly, “but still haven’t learnt it, have you?”

He jumped off the platform, suddenly exhausted, and summoned a bottle of water from their bags.

“That was a good one, Yuuri!” Mila shouted to him excitedly from over her spot near the dummies. “This one here deserves to get his ego bruised once in a while!”

“Hey!” Viktor protested, but she just snickered at him, and he simply hugged Yuuri from behind.

“You’re amazing,” he whispered into Yuuri’s ear.

“You’re amazing,” Yuuri told him back. “That Patronus – it’s perfect, Viktor, it really is.”

Viktor kissed his temple.

“Come on,” he said. “Will you watch me go through some step sequences?”

 

***

 

They soon said goodbye to Mila, who was supposed to meet with Lilia Baranovskaya just as they were leaving; a quick shower later they Apparated into a secluded corner behind the very first restaurant which Yuuri visited with Viktor in St. Petersburg.

Viktor grabbed his hand now, running his thumb down Yuuri’s palm. Yuuri smiled; it was in these silent gestures of affection that he found a home when he moved into this city, so foreign, so strange, so ever-changing.

Yuuri had grown quite fond of this cosy, old-fashioned restaurant; Viktor had claimed it was his favourite, and Yuuri surely appreciated both the charm and the cuisine, even though at first he had met the traditional Russian food with nothing more than curiosity. But now he got to tease Viktor about his still water while he himself enjoyed a kvass, and the freshly-baked home-made bread was to die for – Viktor seemed to think so, too, especially since he couldn’t try it.

There were days Yuuri had doubts about where his research was going; there were days he even missed the duelling platform. But he never had any regrets about his new and freeing lack of diet.

“I missed having dinners with you,” Viktor suddenly said. The fish on his plate looked delicious; Yuuri thought he probably wouldn’t have missed being on a diet if he could eat it back when he still competed.

“You dork,” he just said now, “You were away for only two days.”

“Two very long days,” Viktor exclaimed dramatically, a bit loud. No one paid him any mind, though. “And so many things happened that I couldn’t share with you.”

That, Yuuri thought, was true; or at least a lot had happened to Viktor, because all Yuuri had done was dog-walking and dog-hugging and trying to figure out what to do with the research that led him nowhere.

“Come with me to my next competition,” Viktor said. “You can take those two days off. You deserve a break. Or – you could research in a local library, perhaps? And we could still spend more time together?”

Yuuri raised a fork to his mouth and all but smirked into his pelmieni. Viktor had a teasing glint in his eyes, the kind he always worse where he was feeling like suggesting something but didn’t want to overwhelm Yuuri.

“And it’s in London, right?” Yuuri said slowly. “I wonder if there’s a library in London.”

Viktor snorted, suddenly inelegant.

“Yuuri, _dorogoy_ ,” he said, “may I let you in on a secret?”

Yuuri nodded, wordlessly, quirking his lips. Viktor was giving him a smile now, hopelessly crooked, and Yuuri promised himself to kiss him very soon, when they’re alone.

“There’s an entire _Ministry of Magic_ in London,” Viktor said and smiled wider as Yuuri let out a faked gasp of surprise. “And they have research facilities.”

 

***

_Dear Harry,_

_How are you doing? Is your research going well?_

_I’m feeling a bit stuck with mine, to be honest. I know you expected better news but that’s the truth. I think my resources are not sufficient enough – all the books lead me nowhere, and it’s frustrating and rather pointless. I think you must know this feeling quite well yourself so I won’t complain about that anymore._

_I’m running out of ideas. None of the books you and Ms Granger recommended were of any use, I’m afraid. I don’t think that spells with delayed effects are known in Japan either, but I’m going to talk to my grandmother about them soon. If anyone knows anything, it would be her._

_Viktor is going to travel to London for a competition soon and I thought I might accompany him to cheer him on and to make use of your research facilities. Would you happen to know how to get access to your Department of Mysteries in the Ministry of Magic?_

_I hope to meet you in London soon!_

_Yours,_

_Yuuri_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while, but here we go - a glimpse into the world post-Cherry Wood and Golden Robes!  
> Updates will be infrequent because I work on multiple WIPs, but the entire thing is already planned so I hope it won't take too long! 
> 
> So, tell me what you think? I'm so excited to work on this universe again, especially since Yurio will make an appearance in the next chapter. And there shall be dogs.
> 
> In case of dogs or other things, I'm on [tumblr](http://kaja-skowronek.tumblr.com).


	2. Chapter 2

 

 

Yuuri landed gracelessly, like a snowball, splashing on the marble floor in a disarray of golden robes. He knew he made a peculiar sight; wizards his age usually had long learnt to control their landing when using a Portkey. Besides, in Britain his robes were not in fashion, and much too bright to wear in the Ministry of Magic.

He also didn’t care.

“You know how to make an entrance,” grinned Teddy, reaching out to help Yuuri up.

He had a strong grasp and even a stronger hug. Yuuri gave him a searching look. Teddy had matured a bit, his face more angular, but it could also be a result of his Metamorphomagus ability. He wore the kind of clothes that let him pass as a quirky Muggle or a very progressive wizard, and Yuuri suddenly remembered that Teddy was now attending a non-magical university, sharing his time between two different worlds.

“Just don’t tell Mari about it,” Yuuri said. “She won’t let me live it down if she ever gets wind of it.”

They began to walk, and if Yuuri noticed some stares, he did his best to ignore them. He had won the right to wear these golden robes, he had paid with his hard work and sleepless nights, and he was not going to be ashamed of them because they were different than anything a British wizard would nowadays wear.

It was his first time in the British Ministry. As they walked, Yuuri let his gaze wander freely, noticing it all: dark wood floors, golden symbols on the blue ceiling, the flurry of wizards in rich robes, passing them by.

Teddy led him to a lift which was supposed to bring him down to Level 9 of the Ministry, where the Department of Mysteries was located. He stopped before Yuuri entered it, sending a crooked smile his way.

“I’m gonna wait for you here,” he said. “I don’t have the clearance to go there. I’ll be here or up in Aunt Mione’s office – oh, and by the way, she said to give you this. Your clearance.”

It was a square silver badge, simple and practical, with _Yuuri Katsuki, visiting the Department of Mysteries_ on it. Yuuri pinned it to his golden robes.

“I don’t know how long it’s gonna take,” said Yuuri. “If you tell me where should I Apparate to, it might be better if you just went home.”

Teddy simply grinned lazily. Suddenly, he looked a lot like Mari and the resemblance surprised Yuuri.

“No worries,” Teddy said. “Send a Patronus when you’re done. Impress all those conceited types here.”

With a wink, he was gone. Yuuri sighed and stepped into the lift, letting it carry him down.

He hoped he’d finally get some answers.”

 

***

 

“So, correct me if I’m wrong,” Unspeakable Patil told Yuuri an hour later. She looked way more comfortable in her cluttered office than Yuuri was. Her animated knick-knacks kept flying above his head like colourful birds, and Yuuri was fairly sure something was about to explode in the corner near the door. He wondered if that was what British wizards understood by safe working conditions. “You want to invent spells that come into effect after an agreed delay, and you want the delay to be set by the caster the moment they utter the spell. So, let’s say, I could make myself a cuppa and charm it so that the cup washes itself after an hour, once it’s empty. Right?”

“Right,” Yuuri nodded. “I’ve looked into plenty of magical systems. It hasn’t been done in any of them.”

“No, it hasn’t,” agreed the Unspeakable. “Not to my knowledge. It’s a fascinating concept.”

“That it is.” A piece of parchment flew over Yuuri’s head and landed neatly on a bookshelf. “And a dangerous one.”

Something darkened in the woman’s eyes.

“That it is,” she repeated after him. “Tell me about any dangers you can anticipate, Mr. Katsuki.”

It wasn’t difficult, not really. Yuuri had spent hours thinking about it, about the damage that his idea could cause. Harry had voiced his reservations the moment Yuuri brought his project up, but he trusted Yuuri and trusted him to do the right thing.

Unspeakable Patil didn’t.

“Do you want me to give you specific examples?” he asked. He was prepared for it. “You could time an Unforgivable Course and get away with murder. You could destroy a Quidditch player’s broom during a match so his team would fall. You could make things explode, of course. Like some buildings on Diagon Alley – that is, if you plan something big, like a coup, perhaps? Or a robbery, a big one. The possibilities, Unspeakable Patil, are endless.”

“That’s enough,” she said. “Mr. Katsuki, I’m sure you understand---“

“But also,” Yuuri kept saying, “you could time it so that medicine would be administered without delay, on the first sign of trouble. You could set up the spells so that they’d make your loved ones a fresh cup of tea when they arrive home, tired. You could time your fireplace to light a fire before you’re supposed to come home from a long journey so that you don’t enter a cold, dark house.”

Unspeakable Patil sighed.

“This is an old argument,” she said, “which you can apply to basically any charm in existence, and any hypothetical one.”

“So why is it that you can cast a Lumos legally even though it could be used to temporarily blind a person?” Yuuri pointed out.

Patil sent him a stern look.

“Because we judge the spell’s legality by the way it is primarily meant to be used.” She tilted her head. “The primary function of your Lumos is to give light. It’s positive, not negative.”

“And my spell is negative, right?” asked Yuuri. “I can’t agree with that.”

Patil shook her head.

“No, you misunderstood me. It’s neutral. There’s nothing wrong with setting the timer. We do it with runes, after all. But neutrality means that the spell has more potential to be used in a malicious way, Mr. Katsuki. A harmful way. With runes, it’s easier to avoid – not many people are skilled enough to use them. But you seem to want your spells to be ubiquitous. And easy to cast.” She leaned forward. “And that’s way more dangerous.”

“Minister Granger was quite pleased with the preliminary research, though,” Yuuri noticed. “That’s why she allowed me to come down here.”

“Hermione Granger has a great interest in magic,” Patil said. “And a great political power to go with it. But this Department is independent enough that I have the authority to overrule her on the matters which affect what happens here.”

Yuuri was at a loss what to say. He stared at her, feeling helpless.

“I don’t mean any harm,” he said. “You have to believe me.”

She met his eyes with a hard, strong gaze, the kind that he used to see on the duelling platform, but somehow even tougher, impossible to get through.

“You’re Potter’s apprentice, right?” she finally asked.

Yuuri nodded.

She got up, her Unspeakable robes without a wrinkle on them, and beckoned him to follow her.

“I don’t trust you,” she said bluntly. “But I’m curious. And what’s more important – I trust Potter to stop you if you get any idiotic ideas.”

“I’m not going to help you with your research, Mr. Katsuki”, she continued as she led him down a corridor. “What my colleagues decide is their own business. But I’m going to show you to our library. I’m putting a lot of trust in you and I have no reason to do so”, she said. “Don’t let me down. You’re not the only one asking about such spells.”

 

***

 

“I thought your boyfriend would join us,” Harry said in lieu of a greeting. He gave Teddy a pat on the shoulder.

The restaurant where they met was quiet and elegant, with the same old-fashioned air that the rest of Diagon Alley was known for. Yuuri was so accustomed to seeing Harry in casual Muggle wear that once again he was surprised to see him in heavy robes.

“You look well,” he said. “And Victor’s coach didn’t let him. He’s supposed to practice his shields. We didn’t even arrive here together – I went off to Japan to see my therapist, and when I got back, his coach had already made him leave. He’s a bit cross with him for slacking off.”

“I thought his shields were okay,” Harry mentioned. “And he always appeared to be so hard-working. I was looking forward to talking with him – and of course, you know Hermione.”

“Minister Granger,” Yuuri said. “Thank you for letting me research at the Department of Mysteries.”

Hermione Granger rolled her eyes. The clothes she was wearing were formal enough, but obviously Muggle.

“All I did was allow the Unspeakables to decide whether they should let you in or throw you out,” she said. “They have an independent streak.”

She sounded almost fond as she said that, and Yuuri wondered what kind of a politician would enjoy working with a department that enjoyed so much freedom and seemed borderline rebellious.

Then again, she was old friends with Harry, so maybe that was not surprising at all.

“I recommend the lamb, it’s delicious,” Teddy said, more interested in their menus than in the Department. “Remember, Harry? We had it when I graduated.”

Harry seemed to be happy to let the conversation flow freely, although something in his green eyes told Yuuri that they were going to broach the subject of his research too. He had no delusions, either. It was as clear as day that while Hermione Granger might be friendly and scholarly, she was a politician, and she was going to grill him the moment she spotted her chance.

Yuuri wished Viktor could be there with him. Maybe then their dinner wouldn’t seem so exhausting.

“You seem contemplative,” Harry then told him. Hermione turned her head towards them, and yes, Yuuri thought: here we go.

“There’s a lot on my mind,” Yuuri said.

“I bet,” Harry chuckled, “whenever I come down there, I ended up going flying as soon as I can cause I have to clear my head.”

“It’s such a great place to visit, though,” Hermione mentioned. “Were the Unspeakables helpful?”

“They were terrifying,” Yuuri said, deciding on the spot that there was no reason to sugarcoat it. “Absolutely terrifying.”

Teddy snorted, and Harry just nodded his head, but Hermione, for some reason Yuuri could not understand, looked excited.

“They must find your research so fascinating though, just like I do,” she said. “It’s pioneering. I don’t think anyone has thought about it before.”

“Oh,” Yuuri said, then. It was curious; for a second, he was wondering how it was possible – but then again, there were other means of applying to research in the Department of Mysteries than asking for the Minister’s permission. Maybe she simply didn’t know even despite her great interest in magic. “I thought you’d know, actually – Unspeakable Patil told me that someone had already been down there, researching this topic.”

“Who?” the woman asked, and the immediately shook her head. “Don’t answer that, I know they wouldn’t tell you in the first place. But that’s – curious. Really curious.”

Harry frowned and Hermione seemed to notice it immediately.

“You don’t think that – Harry?”

He sighed. Yuuri wasn’t sure what was happening around him; it was as if they were having a conversation for which they needed no words, an old ongoing one that they picked up from where they had interrupted it a long time ago.

“We talked about it, Mione,” Harry said. “Yuuri’s idea is equally dangerous as revolutionary. I support it – if only so that Yuuri can design it in a way that would limit the potential damage. It’s a great idea, but –“

“But Voldemort did great things, too, Harry, we did talk about it, and I think you’re—“

“We did go through this, Mione, and I’m trying to make sure we don’t go through it again. And someone who holds your position—“

“For Merlin’s sake,” Teddy cut in. “Shut up, both of you. I can’t believe – you’re supposed to be adults here! I don’t even know how to be an adult and I’m more mature than both of you! Harry, you’re doing your hero thing. I love you and I love that you did the hero thing or we’d all be dead, but if you go and try to do your hero thing one more time, I’m going to drag you back home myself and then I’ll set both Draco and Grandma Molly on you. Aunt Mione, you have the authority to check who comes and goes to the Unspeakables, right? So you can always check it to ease your mind.”

For a moment, the table was quiet. Yuuri didn’t know what to make of the tension.

“Alright, Teddy. You’re right.” Hermione finally said. “And now – shall we eat?”

 

***

 

“Yuuri!”

Viktor’s voice was loud, louder than needed, and warm, warmer even that Yuuri would expect.

“Hi,” he said, melting into their embrace. Viktor smelled of Portkey travel – like the wind, like the air, like the rain. His overcoat was slightly damp and way too cold, unpleasant to touch. Yuuri hugged him tighter. “I missed you.”

“And I missed you. Yakov wouldn’t let me Firecall! He said I was a menace.”

“You pranked him last week.”

“He needed to be cheered up!” Viktor claimed. He took his wand out and pointed it at his miniature luggage, unshrinking it. “I can’t believe you’re against me, Yuuri.”

“I’m against pranking your coach,” Yuuri said. “You should set an example for Yuri.”

Viktor flopped onto their hotel bed, untying his shoes. “You mean to tell me you never pranked Harry?”

Yuuri rolled his eyes. “He’d prank me back. And then Mari and Minako would join. It would never end.”

“Oh, Yuuri,” Viktor said, dramatically. “You missed out on so much fun!”

Yuuri lay down next to him, staring at the ceiling and playfully grabbing Viktor’s hand. Viktor linked their fingers together, tender.

“You seem tense today,” he noticed, quieter now.

“It’s just something Harry said at dinner,” Yuuri said. “It might be nothing.”

“You want to talk about it?”

Yuuri closed his eyes.

“It really might be nothing. If it turns into something, I’ll tell you then.”

“Okay”, Viktor kissed the palm of Yuuri’s hand. Yuuri couldn’t help but smile. “Want to change the topic?”

“Mhm.” Yuuri just hummed. The bed was comfortable. Viktor was next to him and he smelled like the whole world. Maybe it had really been nothing.

Viktor shifted so that he could kiss Yuuri easily, and Yuuri lazily returned the kiss, finally letting himself forget the tension he’d felt since dinner. Viktor nibbled Yuuri’s lower lip, and Yuuri gasped before letting out a quiet, breathy laugh.

“This is your change of topic?”

He felt Viktor grin into the kiss before he shifted to whisper into Yuuri’s ear, his breath hot, “Is it working?”

Yuuri opened his eyes, his voice a bit louder now.

“Clothes,” he said. “Off.”

Viktor was about to wave his hand, using a single charm, but Yuuri stopped him, pulling them both so they would be seated.

“No,” he said. “Will you let me?” his hand moved to the buttons of Viktor’s robes. “Like this?”

Viktor nodded, wordlessly. His pupils were dark wide. Yuuri moved his hands slowly, button after button until it was time to slide the robes off Viktor’s shoulders. Yuuri pressed a kiss to one of them, light like a butterfly, and Viktor gasped.

“You’re taking your time,” Viktor said, a trace of a lazy smirk in his voice.

“I’m taking you”, Yuuri replied.

The robes were gone, and he pushed Viktor onto the bed, where his hair spread against the pillow like starlight. He’d look angelic, Yuuri thought, if it weren’t for that satisfied smirk of his, and Yuuri could not help but try to kiss it off. He broke the kiss to move to Viktor’s collarbone, Viktor’s hands travelling down his body, and then Viktor broke the silence again.

“You’re taking your time,” he repeated, as if making a point.

Yuuri had so many replies on the tip of his tongue, but he chose none of them. His hand reached down to take hold of Viktor’s dick, and he enjoyed the gasp that followed soon after. Yuuri moved lower.

Soon he focused on the sounds Viktor was making, unguarded and a little desperate. Viktor tugged at Yuuri’s hair, helpless, and Yuuri moved his mouth in the rhythm that he knew Viktor liked the most, the one they had learnt together. Viktor’s little catches of breath sparked a heated feeling in Yuuri’s stomach, in his dick. When his finger finally entered Viktor, so slowly, he paused to kiss Viktor’s inner thigh, the sound almost innocent against Viktor’s low cry.

It was tantalizing, the way Viktor always overcame Yuuri’s senses: the paleness of his glistening skin, the unevenness of his breath, the tenderness of his touch, his salty bitterness on Yuuri’s tongue, the musky scent of his thighs against Yuuri’s nose. When they finally moved together, Yuuri swore he could almost feel their magic tingling, or maybe it was just Viktor’s fingers on his back, the feeling of his body against Yuuri. Viktor was making noises, and Yuuri couldn’t help but grunt, too, helpless, digging his fingers into Viktor’s chest, staying so close to him that they couldn’t be closer.

Viktor came first. He came murmuring into Yuuri’s ear until Yuuri, too, came hard and panted into the crook of Viktor’s neck. A few heartbeats passed, unsteady. He kissed Yuuri’s temple, silent.

“You know,” Viktor said after a long while, “I’m so happy I could cast a Patronus now.”

“Why won’t you, then?” Yuuri asked without thinking.

Viktor didn’t reply for a moment, and Yuuri thought that maybe he wouldn’t at all. And then he heard a whisper against the top of his head, as if Viktor kissed him there just before he spoke the spell.

“Here you go,” Viktor then said.

Yuuri moved, incredulous, until he could see it – Viktor’s canine Patronus bright and proud and corporeal. Yuuri fumbled for his wand. It didn’t really take any effort to find the right happy memory.

 _“Expecto Patronum_ ”, he whispered.

A mist blossomed out from his cherry wand, soon turning into his sable. Yuuri watched the two magical guardians play together, basking in Viktor’s warmth next to him until he fell asleep.

 

***

 

“You hold duelling competitions at a football stadium?” asked Yuuri, incredulous.

“It’s practical,” Hermione replied. “Since it’s in London anyway. Why not, honestly?”

“I thought you wanted to keep your world separate from the Muggle one,” replied Yuuri. Somehow all his earlier conversations with Viktor only had led to _London_ as the location, and this surprisingly non-magical setting was confusing. The stadium was crowded with people in elaborate robes, a standard duelling platform rising in the middle of the pitch, and Yuuri really wanted to laugh at it.

“They had wanted to keep it like that, yes,” Hermione said. “Twenty years ago. And now all those bigots who need to show off at a duelling event will have to enter a non-magical venue.”

He didn’t consider that.

“Does it work?” he asked.

“It does now,” Harry said. “The first couple of times it didn’t. They got used to it.”

“What Harry means is that he started competing and it was fashionable to show his support for him, Muggle venue or not,” Teddy said.  “Just food for thought, Yuuri. Speaking of which, would you like a Chocolate Frog?”

Yuuri declined, and so did Harry, but Teddy and Hermione shared the sweets, exchanging collectable cards (“Look, Harry, it’s Professor McGonagall!”) as well as harmless gossip (“I really don’t want to talk about Draco’s hairline, Teddy”). The atmosphere turned almost cosy, with how Hermione didn’t have to open the ceremony this time. Yuuri watched as one of Britain’s leading duellists, Filius Flitwick, did the honours instead – and then, with magic in the air and sparkles shot, it began.

“Oh, Otabek is first,” Yuuri mentioned. He had first noticed Altin when he was shaking hands with Viktor at the opening ceremony, but he didn’t know he was up first. Back in Sochi, the duellist had faced Viktor; Yuuri would have never imagined he’d be watching him again, but from the audience, cheering. Even after all this time, it was so eerie to let go of duelling like that.

“He’s got a very good presence on the platform,” Hermione noticed. “Do you know the witch who’s against him?”

“Sara Crispino,” Yuuri said. “An Italian. I duelled against her just once, she’s fantastic. She plays her strengths well.”

The duel turned into a swift and flashy spectacle, with spells flying faster than Yuuri could see; he could predict so many steps, so many movements, spot any mistakes. He fell quiet, letting the conversation carry on without him, Teddy’s excited cries muffling any sounds of silence. Hermione seemed immersed in the duel, following it with keen eyes, leaning forward, and only Harry appeared to notice Yuuri’s change of mood.

“Do you miss it?” Yuuri asked him. “Duelling. Do you miss them sometimes?”

“I don’t know,” Harry told him. “Perhaps a bit. I’m glad where I am now.”

Sara Crispino tore Altin’s shield to shreds. He responded with a Stunner, though slowed down by her Impedimenta. For a moment, Yuuri and Harry watched the duel, the topic abandoned, and then Harry spoke again.

“I rarely had the time to miss something, you know?”

There were few things Yuuri could say to that. He hesitated, not comfortable with this suddenly heavy topic, but Harry didn’t seem to expect an answer. He smiled, pointing at the platform.

“And look, Altin has won! I didn’t think he would – he’s great, but didn’t Crispino win in Switzerland last week? But, well, anything can happen.”

Look at us, Yuuri thought, his eyes resting at his company, suddenly content to sit there in the audience and not wait for his turn to duel. Anything could happen, really.

 

***

 

What happened was this: Viktor was facing his friend, Alejandra Rodriguez, him all silver and pale, her all in black, hair darker. Yuuri smiled at the sight; before the start of the season, Viktor had shyly asked for Yuuri’s permission to wear gold on his robes in Yuuri’s honour, and Yuuri, completely disarmed and more than a little smitten, agreed. Viktor was stunning now, like he had always been, and in an even better shape than the previous season.

Yuuri really, really wanted to watch this.

“It’s gonna be explosive,” Teddy said, excitedly.

But it wasn’t. Where Rodriguez often attacked the moment the duel started, now she seemed almost careful, watchful. Viktor, not one to be defensive either, sensed the change of pace. He fired a subtle Russian spell he favoured, something like a solidified beam of mist – Yuuri still struggled with this one – and got surprised when it was blocked by a powerful shield.

Viktor moved faster now, relying on some of the step sequences he’d been refining with Yuuri, his footsteps sure, steady. He fired a Stunner, lightning fact, and then it really started, the dance Yuuri was looking for.

“He’s so different now,” Harry said, pointing at Viktor. “You must have trained a lot with him. These steps are all yours.”

Yuuri shrugged, sheepish, but a part of him was pleased that he’d left a mark on Viktor’s duelling, that his influence was visible, though subtle still.

“Merlin, they moved to Transfiguration now?”

“That’s clever,” Hermione observed, “did you notice how Rodriguez adjusted that spell so that it would Transfigure the left part of his robes, dragging him down?”

“He got out of it,” Yuuri said, breathless. On the platform, Viktor surrounded himself with a shield before taking down Rodriguez’s spell, and then he moved forward in a flash of spells, and Yuuri thought – he’s unbeatable – and then Viktor’s Patronus sprang out of his wand and charged at Rodriguez, who froze, stunned.

“ _Stupefy_ ,” Viktor said then, clearly.

The duel ended. Yuuri felt as if the time slowed down, the audience still stunned, the duellists still exhausted.

“Amazing,” breathed Teddy.

Yuuri waited for a few heartbeats, until the Patronus disappeared in a mist, until Viktor’s posture relaxed, until Rodriguez hugged him warmly, and only then did he realize: Viktor won gold, again.

 

***

_Hey Katsudon,_

_Did Rodriguez really announce she’s changing coaches? I thought she was working with her sister? Isn’t it kinda dumb, in the middle of the season?_

_And do you think Emilia Rodriguez would allow me to work with her now that her sister dumped her? Yakov’s being a pain. He still won’t let me touch some spells from the book you sent me – he says they’re too advanced._

_I bet I could beat his sorry ass in a second. He hasn’t had a proper duel since like 1960 or something, I bet._

_Anyway – can I get your Pensieve memory from London? I need to watch Altin. Viktor left his memory but he spent half of the duel starring at you even though he couldn’t see you when you were in the stands, and Yakov spent it shouting at Viktor so he’s excused, I guess. Really, Yuuri. He’s ridiculous, what do you see in him?_

_Nevermind. Don’t tell me._

_Yuri_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... this is aggressively unedited and kinda stilted but I'm sort of Struggling with life things and writing things are suffering because of it. I thought it would be better to post it now anyway cause I've no idea how long this block of sorts is gonna last. Tell me what you think?
> 
> Special thanks to [Voxofthevoid](https://archiveofourown.org/users/voxofthevoid/) for all the help and being Awesome, ilysm <3
> 
> Here's my [tumblr](http://kaja-skowronek.tumblr.com) thingy


	3. Chapter 3

 

Draco Malfoy had an unnerving ability to make Yuuri feel inferior. No words were needed – a quick glance and a raised eyebrow were enough. Yuuri had always wondered why Harry wanted to share his life with this man, but it always became obvious the moment Harry entered the room. Draco Malfoy alone was the perfect picture of aloofness; Draco Malfoy with Harry was the same but – softer, somehow, as if he lost the sharpness of his edges.

And now, sitting on Harry’s sofa in the library at Grimmauld Place 12, Yuuri decided not to judge them. He used to think – a lifetime ago – that Viktor, too, was cold and untouchable.

Viktor was currently glaring at Draco for glaring at Yuuri, and Yuuri could not have been more wrong.

Yet even Viktor’s closeness couldn’t wash away the stiffness from Yuuri’s shoulders. Try as he might, he couldn’t feel at ease with Draco Malfoy around, and the man seemed either oblivious to it or didn’t care at all. Yuuri thought that perhaps the man was so used to such a reaction that he considered it perfectly normal.

Harry had invited Yuuri to his house to discuss his research, and Viktor, more than happy not to spend as much time with Yuuri and to grill Harry about duelling, cheerfully tagged along. The whole time, Draco had not bothered to leave the library, and while he seemed to be focused on his own reading material, Yuuri sensed his eyes striking him like a cold spell.

“So that’s it,” he was telling Harry now, “very little progress. I’m gonna Portkey to Japan and talk to my grandmother, though. Our magic is different. Maybe I’ll find a way to make this happen if I broaden my research.”

“You need to look at augmentative spells, I think. The idea should not be to create an entirely new branch of spells with delayed effects – that would take a lifetime, if not a few lifetimes,” frowned Harry. “But to come up with an augmentative, like _Maximum_ for _Lumos_ or for some Shielding Spells – that could work.” He smiled. “But I think you already know that.”

Yuuri nodded. Next to him, Viktor was listening, attentive, and while he knew Draco was interested in their conversation as well, Viktor’s body language – open, honest – could not be more different than Draco’s rigid posture.

“That’s what I thought I should do,” Yuuri said. “The incantation could limit the area of the spell so that it wouldn’t be used in a malicious way... I don’t know, it could include the intent, I think, so... Sorry,” he stopped, feeling his blush blossom on his cheeks. “I’m rambling.”

“You’re not rambling,” Draco Malfoy looked at him – and for the first time, Yuuri didn’t feel the impossible ice of his grey eyes. “It’s rather clever.”

 

***

 

“Hey,” Viktor kissed his temple later, once they had returned to their hotel in London and Yuuri had shaken off the stiffness from his shoulders. “You alright?”

Yuuri was scribbling away a letter to Phichit. He now put his Muggle pencil away, glancing up at Viktor.

“Yeah,” he just said.

Viktor reached for his hand, and Yuuri got up, his letter forgotten. He followed Viktor until they both entangled their limbs on the sofa, warm, content. Yuuri ran his fingers through Viktor’s long silver hair and soon began to twist a few strands into a loose, messy braid. Viktor let him, happy, and tilted his head. The room was softly quiet.

“You’ve got a lot on your plate,” Viktor finally noticed.

“Yes, because you don’t. Your next competition is in two weeks – you should practice that inverted move into your _Stupefy_.”

“I know” Viktor sighed. “But I can practice that anywhere, and you-you need to travel all over the world, alone, just with that Portkey.”

“You travel, too” Yuuri pointed out. He finished the braid and mindlessly began another. The silk of Viktor’s hair calmed him down.

“Yes, but – I don’t have to travel until Moscow, and even then it’s not far from St. Petersburg.” He hesitated, a hitch in his voice that Yuuri had learnt to recognize – it always meant Viktor was unsure, uncertain. “If you want me to, I could come with you.”

It took a conscious effort to keep braiding the soft strands of Viktor’s hair. The gesture was gentle – comforting them both, perhaps, in the silence that lulled in between them like a cloud. Yuuri didn’t let his wordless thoughts float for too long – he knew what they could create now, all the awful, cacophonous noises in their hearts.

Hasetsu had always been the one still point in Yuuri’s life, the constant, unmovable town where Yuuri could pretend that there was no flow of time, no turning of pages in his calendars, year after year. Hasetsu stood still. And then there was Viktor, the one person with whom Yuuri could eat breakfast in the morning and feel like it meant one thing: they were going forward.

It would feel – strange, Yuuri thought, if he took Viktor along. Viktor and Hasetsu would be like two worlds colliding. And Yuuri would lie to himself if he said he hadn’t fantasised about it.

“Would you like to?” he just asked when the silence stretched almost too long. “Really?”

“Yuuri,” said Viktor like only he did, pronouncing his name with this playful, rising and falling spin of the vowel. “I’d love to. We could bring the dogs, too! So Mila won’t have to dogsit again. And you could show me around – your town, the whole area, the duelling room you told me about, everything. Your family.”

Yuuri finished the braid, thoughts flashing in his mind – he could just picture Viktor there, in Yuuko’s back room, on this tiny platform. Viktor deserved grander places – but he deserved the simple things, too, and somehow he was choosing, day after day, to share them with Yuuri.

“Viktor,” he said then, carefully. When some thoughts appeared in his mind, he couldn’t make the mistake of ignoring them. “Would you like to organize a small duelling show for Hasetsu with me?”

 

***

 

“You brought a dog to Hasetsu,” Mari said when they landed in front of Yu-Topia. “A dog. You know that Portkeys are not good for – Yuuri, really. Two dogs, now?”

“And a boyfriend,” Viktor nodded, cheerfully. He was holding a sleepy Makkachin in both of his arms. He’d put his smile on, the one he used for the press, and Yuuri hated to see it on his face here, in his home. “Hi. I’m Viktor.”

“I know who you are,” Mari said. She reached her hand out. Yuuri knew she had a strong handshake. “Mari.”

She was wearing Muggle clothes; Yuuri realized she must have been helping dad in the non-magical part of Yu-Ropia today. There was something stubborn and steely in her expression that made Yuuri suspect she’d grill Viktor mercilessly the moment she got the chance to do so. He already felt the first wisps of embarrassment tingling in his cheeks.

“Have some faith, Mari,” he said now, trying to mask his worry. “We made sure the dogs were safe. And we’re gonna stay here for a few days. Nothing will happen to them.”

“If you’re sure,” Mari said. She crouched down to hug Lumos, who was even sleepier than Makkachin. After a few scratches behind the ears, she picked the dog up, and “I’m gonna steal Lumos from you, though. Go say hi to mum and dad, they’re in the kitchen – we thought you’d be coming later.”

“Dog thief,” Yuuri muttered as she disappeared behind the doors of Yu-Topia. “So, shall we?”

He thought he’d feel nervous the first time he’d bring Viktor here; afraid of his parents’ reactions, of Mari’s judgmental stare, of Yu-Topia’s old walls held together by his mother’s careful magic. But now that the trepidation was gone, all he felt was excitement.

 

***

 

“Your parents are so nice,” Viktor gushed to him later, when they’re in bed, his voice quiet and soft like a blanket. “And your mum! You look so much like her, you’ve got the same eyes, and the same posture, it’s so—“

“Don’t remind me,” Yuuri sighed. Since his decision to retire from competitive duelling, his body had grown softer, rounder; he sometimes missed his slenderer frame when he looked in the mirror in the mornings.

“It’s amazing,” Victor said, seriously. “And cute. You’re cute.”

He made a point of tickling Yuuri, who laughed, caught his hand and kissed his fingertips, one after another. Makkachin lifted her head from her spot on the floor, watching them with an alert look on her face; Lumos, sleeping next to her, didn’t even stir.

“Honestly, it’s so great here,” Victor went on. “So casual. Homely.”

“Yeah,” Yuuri said. That’s what it was supposed to be, after all – a home to return to, even though sometimes escaping from it seemed to him like a better option. Hasetsu never changed, stuck in the same impossible loop of used-to-be’s and once-upon-a-time’s.

Viktor didn’t reply much to Yuuri’s easy agreement. Instead, he hugged Yuuri closer, nuzzling the crook of his neck, running his left foot up and down Yuuri’s calf. They did a lot of this, limbs entangled and warmth shared, and Yuuri would have never thought that enjoying the same space with someone else would one day be so natural, so easy, as breathing – but it was.

He’d learnt all there was to that: all of Viktor’s smiles and half-smirks and playful wrinkles around his eyes when he laughed, all of his gestures, affection so natural that would be unnoticeable if it weren’t so sweet. That’s how Yuuri knew now: whatever Viktor was thinking now, it was troubling him.

He sent a peck to Viktor’s nose and got up, slowly, ignoring the low hum of disapproval that his movement got out of Viktor’s throat. Yuuri padded towards the dogs and picked Lumos up; the poodle was sleepy, and he yawned in Yuuri’s arms. Yuuri gently put the dog in Viktor’s arms, scratching Lumos behind the ears.

“Here,” he said, but didn’t add anything more.

They had talked about Viktor’s family – his non-magical father, gruff but well-meaning, who did not understand his only son at all; who had always thought material gifts were a good substitute of affection, and who never understood they were not what Viktor wanted. And then there was his mother, a witch, half-Russian, half-Mari, blending two cultures and two magics, two worlds and two languages, and Viktor grew up torn between so many senses of otherness.

Viktor rarely talked about them, as if afraid that sharing the pieces of their lives he’d absorbed into himself would make him break too easily. Yuuri didn’t know that much about Viktor’s childhood, other than a few snippets of memories Viktor had chosen to share with him; and he had not seen Viktor interact with his parents other than an occasional Floo call with his mum.

Perhaps what was obvious and natural to Yuuri – the easy affection they all shared at home, the  absolute trust they had in one another, the light-hearted evenings in the kitchen overflowing with laugher – perhaps all of that was not obvious to Viktor, who had been even tenser in the first months of their relationship than Yuuri; Viktor, who kept walking on eggshells.

He now cuddled Viktor, silently, letting him be with his own thoughts, and hoped that would be enough.

 

***

 

Yuuri had almost forgotten how quiet could be the halls of Mahoutokoro. The school resonated with the low hum of magic and the vibrant rumble of the volcano on which it sat. Yuuri had missed it, the electrifying, alert feeling in his body whenever he came here.

“It’s like a drug, right?” Phichit said, watching his face.

He’d left Viktor in Hasetsu, slightly worried about how he would get along with Mari and Yuuko; but Viktor had wanted to help organize their small duelling show, and Yuuri needed to research uninterrupted – which was easier said than done considering Phichit’s sunny presence.

Phichit’s robes were still silver, softer than Yuuri’s glamorous gold. He didn’t seem perturbed by that; Phichit had always been at peace with himself, something Yuuri was still struggling with.

“It is,” Yuuri admitted. “It’s good to be back.”

“My mum says you never really leave your school,” Phichit told him as they began to walk towards the library. “That you carry a piece of its magic with you, and a piece of you stays here.”

Yuuri nodded. Phichit’s mother was a seer; he now wondered whether it was something she had seen in her visions or just the kind of wisdom that Phichit’s mum naturally seemed to possess.

“She’s right, you know,” he said to Phichit, who just grinned.

“I don’t know,” he said, “she also tells me I should listen more to Ciao Ciao, and the last time I did that, my robes caught fire. And she seems to be weirdly fixated on you, for some reason.”

And that was a bit scary, Yuuri thought, even though he would never say so to Phichit.

“Why?” he asked, keeping his voice neutral.

“Who knows?” Phichit shrugged. “I never listen. Her visions make little sense. Something about hurdles, I’ve no clue. We figured it had something to do with your research – I mean, it’s not like it’s easy, right?”

“Right,” Yuuri echoed just as they reached the library. “Shouldn’t you hurry to your class?”

Phichit shrugged, again.

“I’ve got a class with Ciao Ciao – I told him I’m gonna study with you. I knew I’d have to skive off when you wrote to me you were coming.”

“He’s not gonna believe that excuse,” Yuuri said.

“I mean, he won’t,” Phichit admitted easily with his usual cheek. “But if he hadn’t let me go, I’d just cause so much ruckus in his class that he’d be thankful when I finally left. He knows it. Really, it’s just easier for us all.”

Yuuri shook his head, and when he spoke again, he lowered his voice, mindful of the people studying in the library.

“You’re a menace,” he said, but it wasn’t without fondness.

But Phichit let out a quiet laugh.

“I’m your friend.”

 

***

 

Minako was waiting for Yuuri when he returned from Mahoutokoro, an inquisitive look in her eyes that Yuuri was way too familiar with. She was wearing loose, western-style robes that suited her well, although Yuuri was surprised to see her in them, and she had a half-empty bottle of sake in her hand, which Yuuri found not surprising at all.

“He’s quite a catch, you know,” she spoke before Yuuri even opened his mouth. “And he’s smitten with you. I told him I’d curse him if he hurt you. He took it rather well.”

Yuuri thought of Viktor, skilled and light on his feet, and Minako, unpredictable and wild and full of magic. It would be a hell of a duel to watch on the platform, and not something he’d like to witness in private.

“I hope no spells will fly,” he opted to say. Minako finally opened her arms and he gave her a hug. She smelt faintly of sake and of her French perfume.

“They will when you two give us that show you promised,” Minako told him, letting him go. It had been a while since Yuuri last saw her in his parents’ kitchen, nonchalant and self-confident and beautiful; but Minako seemed to charmed her way into any place she went to, and tonight was no different. “He seemed really excited about it, that boyfriend of yours.”

“He’s got a name,” Yuuri told her, cross but not really. “And it’s Viktor.”

“Oh, I know,” Minako grinned, an easy, wolfish thing, “I helped him set up a few things today. Yuuko’s on it too – I think she wants to talk to you, plan some stuff, get it all in motion. You know how it is. And he’s so excited.”

Yuuri could imagine. The look on his face must have told Minako the same thing because she let out a sharp chuckle.

“To be fair, Hasetsu could use the money from this show.”

Yuuri nodded. He could use the same thing; money he’d earned in competitions would only last for so long, and he did not exactly get paid for his research until the research was done. He knew it wasn’t that Viktor would have minded supporting them both in the meantime, but Yuuri would mind a lot, and he was not having it.

Minako was right about Hasetsu, though; Yu-Topia was not doing as well as even a few years before, and Yuuri dreaded the day when he would spot tiny cracks in his mother’s careful spells that held the building together.

Minako seemed to sense his contemplative mood. She was not carefree either – she rarely was, even if she maintained the cheerful facade Yuuri remembered from his childhood days – but she grinned, looking at Yuuri’s face.

“Cheer up,” she said, raising her bottle of sake to her lips. “Money’s money, but we all could do with some more excitement.”

 

***

 

When Yuuri finally left Minako and climbed upstairs, Viktor waited for him in his old childhood bedroom. He had a simple yukata on, no doubt given to him by Hiroko; Yuuri momentarily got distracted by the material slipping from Viktor’s pale shoulder, near the spot he liked to kiss.

Viktor had been writing a letter, his Muggle notebook on Yuuri’s old desk, but he perked up when Yuuri entered, leaning into a hug.

“How did it go?” he asked, “the library?”

“I may have found something,” Yuuri replied, “but it was so ambiguous – a legend, really, maybe nothing more, some wizarding tale from this one little town in the north? It’s just a single source, no way to prove it, no actual incantation either. It could be just a piece of fiction.”

“Or it could be real,” Viktor suggested, furrowing his brows. He planted a soft kiss on Yuuri’s temple, running his hands down Yuuri’s arms. “Come on, darling. You’re so tense. I’ll give you a massage – and you can tell me the legend then, okay?”

Yuuri happily followed him to the bed, lying down on the mattress, but he didn’t feel like talking about the library.

“I might talk about it with grandma first, if you don’t mind. Maybe she’d know? But I’m too tired to think about it now.” Viktor banished most of Yuuri’s clothes with a wordless spell. His hands felt like home against Yuuri’s body. He let out a sigh, closing his eyes. “You’re good at this,” he murmured. “Tell me about your day, though? How are the preparations going?”

“Amazing!” Viktor chirped, moving his hands against Yuuri’s shoulder blades. “The venue is ready, and Yuuko says it’s the only thing the customers want to talk about when they come to her shop!”

“Mhm,” Yuuri just let out. Viktor’s fingers found a particularly tense muscle. “She’s sure to get them all hyped up.”

Viktor shifted, his hands travelling down and to Yuuri’s side, and it was a while before he replied. When he did, his tone was soft. Yuuri had taken to calling it Viktor’s blushing voice in his head.

“I also talked with Minako.”

“Oh Merlin,” Yuuri swore, the curse he’d heard so many times from Teddy and Harry strangely natural on his lips. “Please don’t. I’ve already spoken to her and I’m sorry for everything she said to you, she’s always so damn protective—“

“Protective?” repeated Viktor, now curious. “Ah, you mean – oh, no, Yuuri, I don’t mean that. To be honest, I found her threats rather heart-warming. She really cares for you.”

“Heart-warming?” Yuuri repeated. “If I were you, I’d be cautious, Vitya. She’s ruthless with the wand.”

“Really?” Viktor asked, suddenly delighted. “I’ve only seen her being ruthless with her sake. But anyway, that wasn’t what I wanted to say. She suggested some robes for us.”

Yuuri suddenly recalled Viktor’s duel with Harry at Hogwarts, Viktor magnificent in the gold he had worn, the same shade that Yuuri had struggled with for so long. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t fond of this memory.

“You should wear gold,” he mumbled now into his pillow.

“Minako says otherwise,” came Viktor’s laughter. “She thought about this champagne colour, pale glistening beige, you know.”

“Champagne can be golden,” Yuuri said because sometimes he enjoyed being stubborn with Viktor, and he knew Viktor found it adorable.

“That is can be,” Viktor now said. “Not this one, though. And she thought it should be dark red for you, like wine.”

Yuuri didn’t have a preference, other than knowing he’d enjoy seeing Viktor in whatever robes he’d choose. He let his muscles relax under Viktor’s fingers, sleepy, content.

“Champagne and wine, you said?” he smiled. “I can see what’s behind her inspiration.”

Viktor planted a kiss between Yuuri’s shoulder blades.

“Well,” he said, “you’re behind mine.”

 

***

 

If Yuuri compared the duelling show in Hasetsu to the one he had watched in Hogwarts, he would have to say this one thing: Hogwarts fell short.

If the air at Hogwarts had crackled with old magic, Hasetsu had the most welcoming milieu, the kind that Yuuri recalled fondly from childhood, but now with the added sparkle of excitement. It felt different to duel in front of a familiar crowd; less than duelling and more like a playful pastime, like back in the day when Yuuri had chases Mari around with the few spells he knew.

They had put up the duelling platform on the beach. Hasetsu’s magical community had grown excited about the show; they flocked towards it in tiny groups, and soon the platform was surrounded by people of all ages, all curious and holding their wands up, beaming with tiny lights like firecrackers.

Yuuko had introduced them both, her voice augmented by a spell. She hadn’t let Yuuri see Viktor before the show, claiming she wanted the duel to be as surprising as possible. Yuuri saw no logic in her reasoning – they could have agreed on their spells before – but he indulged her, fond of her enthusiasm.

Yuuri stepped onto the platform, feeling strange in his robes red like wine instead of the usual black and gold. He was calm, though, calmer than ever before a duel – maybe it was Hasetsu’s influence washing over him like a wave.

Or maybe it was Viktor’s. He joined Yuuri on the platform now, his robes just like he had said: the colour of champagne, pale gold. And he was smiling at Yuuri, the same private smile he always gave him, despite so many people watching them now. Yuuri remembered how different Viktor had seemed in the past, how statuesque, how distant.

Yuuri had been so wrong.

Viktor smiled at him, almost angelic, just before Yuuko’s countdown.

“I won’t get easy on you,” he had promised Yuuri the previous night, “that’s how I show my love.”

As Yuuko counted to three – two – one, Yuuri knew Viktor had been telling the truth.

He moved before Yuuri could react, a wide swish of his wand that threw at Yuuri a gust of wind and almost blew him off the platform. Yuuri aimed at his legs, trying to tie him to the wooden floor; he missed.

 _Stupefy,_ he thought furiously, pouring more than he needed into the spell, but Viktor reacted with a shield so strong it almost pushed Yuuri back. Yuuri attacked it with an overpowered Lumos, and Viktor blinked, his free hand covering his eyes.

Yuuri saw his opening. He moved, sequences of spells flying as fast as his thoughts, his footsteps sure as if he were dancing. They had danced a lot of times like this, focused, breathless, powerful.

 _Depulso,_ Yuuri thought, _Protego, Avis, Engorgio!_  He glided to the right and then aimed a _Stupefy!_ At Viktor’s legs, but Viktor evaded the spell with ease. He was grinning.

Yuuri grinned back, wolfish, feeling the spells buzz in his veins. He had missed that. He had missed that so much.

Viktor did not give him any time to think. He would strike like a serpent, swift, deadly, and Yuuri avoided Viktor’s spells and cast his own, giving all he got, but he knew: he was losing.

Perhaps it didn’t matter. It was Viktor. It was a friendly duel. But Yuuri _wanted_ to win, he’d missed winning as much as duelling, and they were in Hasetsu, the town he wanted to be proud of him. He threw himself into the duel, letting himself feel, act on instinct, without thoughts.

 

***

 

Later, he wouldn’t know how much time had passed before Viktor whispered the first sounds of his coarse _Expecto Patronum._ Yuuri’s limbs had grown tired, arms heavy, almost leaden, and he knew: he was losing, and it was a shame, but it was alright, and then Viktor was casting his Patronus and Yuuri was sure it was over. He threw one more spell, almost careless, not one to go down without a fight at all.

He was sure it was over – and it was. Yuuri’s spell hit Viktor right above his heart. It was the very same spot Yuuri liked to kiss.

For a moment, Yuuri didn’t know who was more stunned of them both – him, surprised that Viktor didn’t put up any fight against the Stunner, or Viktor, watching his wand with a bitter grimace on his face.

He did not cast anything more than a weak wisp of mist.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... get ready for some more angst next time? 
> 
> I don't know when the next chapter will be up cause I'm still a bit blocked and life is being a Mess and also I won't get any writing done this weekend - so in two weeks, perhaps? 
> 
> As usual, I'm still on [tumblr](http://kaja-skowronek.tumblr.com).


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